I decided to take a pre-finals trip to the supermarket. I wanted to stock up on stuff so I had no excuse to leave my books. It had been a while since I had been in a supermarket, and it was quite an experience.

I went right to the juice section and took a ruby-red liquid from the shelf. It was called Juicy-Juice.

Isn't this a given?

When I purchase juice, I generally hope that I get the juicy kind. Actually, I wonder what other kind there is -- Meaty-Juice or Cheesy-Juice perhaps?

I wondered in amazement how this product got named. It must have been late one Friday night in some advertising agency. All of the ad campaign people were probably tired and ready to get home. I can picture it:

Ad person #1: "Well, it's 8 p.m. and we still have one more product to name."

Ad person #2: "Remember, the name should describe the product."

Ad person #3: "Let's see, it's red and. . .juicy?"

Ad person #1: "That's it. Good work, team. See you Monday."

I continued reading the label on the juice and saw that it was only .0083 percent real fruit juice.

Or, really not that juicy after all.

I guess Chemically-Preservity Juice did not exactly roll off the tongue. I decided to skip the juice and get some Milky-Milk instead. (Hey, isn't that the guy in those Calvin Klein ads?)

I saw 1 percent, 2 percent and skim milk. I took the 1 percent even though what I had hoped for was 100 percent milk. I guess 100 percent beverages don't exist anymore. Other products are still intact though. I never buy three-eighths of a loaf of bread or two-thirds of a bottle of shampoo.

I needed shampoo, so out of the many selections I picked a glossy bottle. I read the back which promised sexy hair.

What was this? Hair wearing lingerie and red lipstick that is really popular with the other hair? I never heard anyone say "I want to go out with her because of her sexy hair."

Of course, it couldn't hurt, so I took two of them.

On the way to the express line, I grabbed a candy bar and ate it, planning to pay later. In two minutes, when I was finished, I read the label -- 100 calories per serving. Not bad, I thought.

Servings per package -- 37.5.

I would like to meet the person who honestly considers half a bite of a candy bar or one cookie dessert. Do they actually eat half of the bag of Doritos, close them up, then finish them the next day?

Some of the worst foods do not even print caloric content. I guess the candy companies figure that once you shove down the cream-filled chocolate-covered nut and toffee crunch treat, you don't really care that much. Sometimes you will see written in small print where the calories should be "You didn't think this was a carrot, did you?"

Or possibly, there was just not enough room on the label for all of the calories.

You know you are really in trouble when the calories are in scientific notation.

I tried to forget about this and got into the express line. I was happy to see that there were only two people in front of me. (This was a mistake. I would have done better to get in the line with six carts of screaming kids.)

My line consisted of a man with 53 cans of cat food and an older, gray-haired woman with a bag of rubber bands, a box of lime Jell-O and a box of nails (I won't even ask).

Our cashier was taking a long time because it was her first day (lucky me). While I grumbled to myself about why they put her in the express line, I notice that she and the cat man are having a heated argument.

She said that he must have 10 items or less. He growled back that he only had one item, cat food. She protested that the rule of 10 items must been held to or everyone will want to take advantage and then what's the whole point? Then they proceeded to get in an ethical debate over the exact classification of the word "item," wasting the time that could have been spent ringing the stuff up!

The man slinked off and it was the Jell-O woman's turn. She was ready to pay, but was painfully short $1.78. She emptied her change purse out and began counting pennies, "One, two. . .now there's a nickel. . ." After five minutes of this, I angrily shoved two dollars in the cashier's hand.

Finally it was my turn, and the cashier asked me how much the shampoo was. "I think it is $2.50," I said.

"No, I think it is $1.99, Miss."

"Listen,"I said, looking at the clock, "don't worry about it, $2.50 is fine."

"No! It will mess up the whole machine! I can't!" She cried out nervously for the runner person to go and find the correct price. Ten minutes later, the person dashed back, out of breath and said "$2.50." I bit my lip.

She finished ringing me up and asked "Would you like a bag with that?"

No, I thought. I was tempted to say that I'm a world-renowned juggler and would enjoy the challenge. Compared to this, three bowling balls, a dagger and a mango will be no problem.

I would go on, but it's been a busy day.

I guess this is the Endy-End.